Broken

You're waiting. You know what's coming and you want nothing more than to run away. If you aren't there he can't say goodbye. He's leaving - leaving you, everyone; he says it's to protect you, all of you. But it hurts. You remember the night before [you touch your lips because you can still feel his, you can still taste him]. You think of his touch. You never want to forget the way he felt, the way your name sounded on his lips. You think of what this could be if he would stay. You cling to the memory of his body pressed against yours, the way he held you, and the way it felt to feel whole for once in your life. He loves you [he loves you too much]. Your heart breaks in a ways you didn't k now it could and you crumble.

You can't look him in the eyes when he walks into the room because his pain might hurt worse than yours. You don't want him to see you cry - again - but it wasn't supposed to happen like this. You were supposed to fight beside one another, the three of you. You realize: you need him too much. You don't want to let him go, not now, not ever, and you know that you have no choice.

[Your insides ache because you know he may never come back; its hard to breathe because you remember him inside of you.]

“Hermione,” he says softly. The sound of his voice hurts because you know you won't hear it tomorrow. You feel his arms around you. You tremble.

“Please don't go.” you cry quietly, holding him so tightly, because you can't think of the morning when you wake up and he's gone. “I need you,” you whisper. “I love you so much, Harry.”

“It's for the best.” he says softly. You look up at him, tears running down your cheeks, dripping off your chin. He kisses you softly. “It's better this way.” He backs away from you.

[You want to hold on. You want to hold on so hard.]

“Please…” you beg, because you're not ready to let him go. You can't.

“I love you,” he says. You're watching his back retreating, leaving you standing alone. You hear the front door close.

[You never studied this. There was no book to give you a way to handle pain like this.]

He's gone. You fall apart.

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A Pregnancy

You and she were never particularly good friends. But you were friends enough. You never thought she would come to you; then again, you never thought she would end up in this situation. You look at Ginny who seems lost in her thoughts, or maybe she's lost in her fears. You suppose either is just as bad as the other. You think maybe she came to you because you were always the “Smart One”. Maybe she hopes you can figure this out for her. Fix it. You can't.

“Ginny.” You speak softly, almost as if you're afraid your voice might hurt her. She turns to face you. Her eyes are shining with tears and you watch as they roll silently down her cheeks. “You have to tell them.”

[It should have been her mother, not you standing here like this. You don't understand and you don't question it, either. You stopped questioning things when Harry left.]

“Hermione,” she says softly. “You remember when I was younger? When I used to be so head-over-heels for Harry?” At the mention of his name your whole body stiffens. He was never really hers, and you know that, but hearing her talk about him makes you uncomfortable. You nod. “I used to pretend that we would get married some day, and have kids. Then things didn't work out and I knew it was for the best.” She looks up at you. “It was so obvious; he was always in love with you.”

[You know it's better not to speak. You know she's right. You hate him for hurting you.]

“Ginny,” you say. “When did you find out you were pregnant?”

She says: “Today.” You know she's lying but you say nothing.

“Who?” You ask and you realize that you're not being polite.

“Hermione-“

“Just tell me. Don't be childish! This isn't just your life, this is your baby's life, and if you can't handle that you should have thought of that before you had sex. Not to mention, this is going to affect the rest of your family, and the life of whoever is the father of this baby.” You don't know where your anger comes from. You realize why you and she were never good friends.

“Draco Malfoy.” She speaks so quietly you aren't sure you heard. You stare at her expectantly. “I said, Draco Malfoy.”

You feel uncomfortably warm. You feel the contents of your stomach lurch, and you fight not to throw up. You don't understand her, this, them. You thought she was smarter than this. No, that's you. You would have known better.

[You find that you can't look at her. You wonder if you ever will again. You decide to pray for her, because she will need it in the end.]

“I can't believe you.” Your voice is filled with venom. “You fucked Draco Malfoy! You disgust me, Ginny.” You think you've made her cry again. You don't care. You never thought she would betray everyone, anyone for that matter. You feel sorry for the child. Stronger than your pity is your hope that whatever happens with her, with Malfoy, with this child, hurts.

[There was a time when you wouldn't think things like that. That time was gone. You're different now.]

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A Death

You walk in and find everyone in silence. You look at Ginny and she doesn't meet your gaze. It's better that way. You see Tonks. You know she's hurting, dying maybe from the inside. And you? You're numb. You think maybe you've become too accustomed to loss, to wreckage and death. You know you should feel more.

[You know that when you're alone it will all implode. You'll crumble in your room, where the silence can't make you feel weak.]

You walk outside because you think you need to be alone. You need to feel the bitter cold against your skin. You hear Ron excuse himself from his family as you walk out the door. He's behind you and catches up quickly but says nothing. You appreciate his silence. You stop somewhere in the middle of the yard and you think back. Think back to the summer holidays you spent here. Time you spent when it was still the three of you. When your lives were still your own. You remember when everything was more than just destruction. You're trembling. It should have been a full moon tonight but you can't see it through the thickness of the clouds.

[You think of Remus. You blame Harry.]

You feel something being draped over your shoulders and realize Ron has given you his jacket. You're shivering now. You don't know how long it's been. Seconds? Minutes? What does it matter anyway? You're acutely aware of the hollowness of your chest, the emptiness. You never thought you would feel this. There's no place safe anymore and you don't remember what home is like. You can't seem to remember the last time you were happy. It's all too far now. Your eyes burn.

Softly: “Hermione…” You turn to face Ron. Your chin is trembling; your breath hitches in your chest. You haven't let anyone touch you since Harry left, but Ron's arms are around you too quickly. You tense at the contact. “I know this hurts.” And now, now you completely fall apart. But he doesn't let you go. You cling to him as if your life depended on it, and maybe, in this moment, it does. You sob, deep and body wracking. You feel sick. You realize that everything around you is in shambles and there is nothing you can do to fix it. None of it.

[You're lost and hopeless. You think you might welcome death. But death never comes for you, only the people you love.]

It hurts to breathe because all you can think is: if Harry had been here Remus would be alive. You think you hate him for this. “I can't do this anymore,” you choke.

You're not sure when your legs can no longer hold you up; you're not sure when Ron caught you. He lifts you up easily, carrying you inside. You think that Harry should be here picking up the pieces. And again, you think you hate him for this. Ron carries you upstairs. You don't remember when he put you on the bed or when he covered you with a blanket. All you remember is the unending darkness. You hope things will be different when you wake up. You know they won't be.

[And when you sleep you no longer dream. There's nothing left to hope for.]

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